


Living is harder

by stinkyworms



Category: Beetlejuice - All Media Types, Beetlejuice - Perfect/Brown & King
Genre: Blood and Injury, Gen, I wanted to write beetlejuice dying, its kinda an AU too things dont play out exactly the same
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-16
Updated: 2020-06-16
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:54:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24755872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stinkyworms/pseuds/stinkyworms
Summary: Beetlejuice enjoys being alive, briefly. Then he dies, which takes a lot longer.
Relationships: Beetlejuice & Lydia Deetz
Comments: 16
Kudos: 76





	Living is harder

Becoming alive, or possibly un-dead, the jury was still out on the correct terminology, was a weird process. It wasn’t as simple as suddenly being capable of breathing. First, Beetlejuice’s body had to undergo an extensive repair process that undoes millennia of decay. Otherwise, his rotten organs would shut down the second he took his first breath. It doesn’t hurt at first, it feels more like pinpricks all over his body, as old wounds heal and necrosis is reverted. But then his nervous system becomes fully functional, and he can feel _everything._ The pinpricks turn into stabs, and he can’t help but scream out in pain as the last of the repair process is completed.

The pain goes as quickly as it came, and he is left panting. _Breathing. Actually breathing._ The sensation of his lungs filling and emptying again is completely novel, and for a moment that’s all he can focus on. He’s vaguely aware than he has fallen to his knees, but the sensation of just _breathing_ is so much that he can’t bring himself to stand back up.

And with breathing comes other things. A big part of the whole “being dead” thing, was that the dead don’t _experience_ the world the same way the living do. Beetlejuice had never known anything else, of course. But he had listened to so many human ghosts describe how, now that they were dead, their senses felt like they were wrapped in cotton wool. They could still feel happiness, and smell old books, and taste blueberry muffins, but it wasn’t the _same._ Beetlejuice had been absolutely fascinated with the concept, and had spent whole centuries dreaming about being able to feel the world the way humans did.

And now, the simple act of filling his working lungs was bringing a ton of overwhelming sensations. He could smell the bouquet of flowers laying next to him, and Delia’s strong perfume and his own sweat. _Sweating._ That was new too. He rubbed his fingers against his palms to feel it, and he noticed how they felt so soft now, the previous rigidness of his muscles gone. He pressed harder with his fingers, and there was a thrumming under his skin. A pulse.

The discovery of a pulse brought on a strong new wave of _emotions._ Beetlejuice felt happiness bubbling up inside him, more intense than he had felt before. Even the three days of haunting the Deetz house and hearing scream after scream hadn’t felt as good as this. He felt giddy, and his head was light. Giggles escaped his throat before he could stop them, and once they started they came like a rush.

Beetlejuice could hear murmuring behind him, but he could hardly make out what was being said over his own manic laughter. His face felt wet, and his eyesight went blurry, and he reached up with his hand to feel tears forming on his face. He moved his fingers around to spread the tears over his soft, warm cheeks. The bristles of his facial hair prickled his hands. It felt incredible.

He had wanted this for _so long._ And now that it was happening, it was better than he had possibly imagined. And the best part, he didn’t have to experience it alone. He had his best friend Lydia along for the ride. They could be human _together._ She could show him how to do human things, like he had shown her how to be a ghost. Even the really boring stuff, like teeth brushing or sleeping, felt exciting to him.

Beetlejuice didn’t know what he wanted to do first. Maybe eating? He had eaten stuff while dead, of course, but now it was going to be _better._ Or maybe he should ask Lydia, she would know what’s best. Beetlejuice managed to regain control of his excitement, calming himself down enough to be able to speak.

He turned in time to see Lydia, charging at him with one of Delia’s art pieces in her hand. Beetlejuice only had half a second to register the look of _anger_ on Lydia’s face before the blow to the head came.

Beetlejuice’s vision swam, and he barely managed to steady himself against the cold wooden flooring with a hand, as the other moved up to clutch his throbbing head. Apparently, pain was a lot more intense when you were alive too. Figures. He clenched his jaw and squeezed his eyes shut in an attempt to get control of himself.

He felt Lydia’s boot on his back, and a moment of panic overwhelmed him as he realised what she was doing, but it was too late. The pole of the art piece was shoved into him, and blinding pain overtook his whole body, as newly formed nerves began to all fire at once. He could hear himself screaming in his ears, but he didn’t know when that had started. He wanted it to stop, and bit down hard on his tongue to stifle it to a moan.

Lydia shoved again, and Beetlejuice felt his bones shift and crack as the pole burst through his chest, covered in blood and viscera. He began to stand, his arms flailing out to steady himself, but Lydia _wrenched_ again, pulling the pole back through his body. Losing most of his support, he fell back down onto his knees.

Beetlejuice clutched at his chest, trying to stem the flow of warm, _warm,_ blood from the gaping cavity that Lydia had left in his thorax. The heartbeat he had been so excited about earlier was now turning against him, pushing more blood out of the wound. He couldn’t stop it, and it leaked between his fingers and dripped onto the floor.

He heard the clatter of metal as the piece of art Lydia had stabbed him with was thrown aside. The noise was harsh and loud, and he flinched away from it, the movement causing another round of blood to ooze from the wound.

There were voices behind him, but everything was drowned out by the ringing in his ears. Beetlejuice felt a presence besides him, and opened his eyes to see Lydia with a hand on his shoulder, steadying him. The look of fury on her face was gone, replaced with worry and dread. She was crying, her eyes wide. Beetlejuice was crying too, he realised. Or maybe that was from before, he couldn’t be sure. 

He wanted to talk to her, to yell at her for betraying him, or ask her _why,_ or to say _it’s okay, I understand, I’d do it too if I were you,_ or just _I’m sorry._ But as he opened his mouth to speak he found that he couldn’t get enough air into his lungs, and it just made him cough, filling his throat with blood that splattered out and onto Lydia.

She flinched away, and out of his window of vision. He wanted her to come back, but his head felt too light to move, and his eyes weren’t focusing properly. He could still feel her hand on his shoulder though, and he gathered up the last of his strength to move a shaky hand from his bloodied chest towards her.

The hand pulled away, immediately. With it, went his only means of staying upright, and Beetlejuice pitched forward. He landed on his stomach with a dull thud. He could hear shouting again, but it wasn’t coming from him this time. From this angle, Beetlejuice could just make out Charles, dragging a flailing Lydia away and out of the room. He tried to make a noise, to tell her to _please come back I can’t be alone again please._ But all that came out was a weak gurgle.

His vision was starting to fade. The blood under him had gone cold, and congealed. The comforting warmth of his body was gone. Beetlejuice closed his eyes, and waited to die. 

Despite never actually dying before, Beetlejuice knew the exact moment it happened. All the pain that was racking his body disappeared, and the strength that had slowly been draining from him returned. His senses too, although muted again, also came back. Vaguely, he could hear Charles and Lydia having a shouting match from somewhere above him, and someone was pacing around him.

Beetlejuice didn’t want to get up. He didn’t want to look at their faces. They all hated him, he knew that now. He had been stupid not to realise it was all a trick to get him out of their lives. Maybe he could just lie here forever, with his eyes closed, and they would leave him, instead. But that was stupid too. He was the problem here, so he had to go.

Beetlejuice sighed, and heaved himself off of the ground to his knees. He didn’t leave a corpse behind, like humans did, but the blood was still there, leaching into the wooden flooring to make an ugly stain.

When he moved, the pacing behind him stopped, and Beetlejuice turned to see Adam knocking on the chalk drawing, opening a portal to the Netherworld.

“Beetlejuice! Leave. This. House!” Adam and Barbara spoke in unison.

The banishing spells in the Handbook didn’t work on demons, but Beetlejuice saw this as an opportunity to leave without having to do anything difficult, like look at anyone. He wished Lydia would come and say goodbye, though, and it hurt that she hadn’t stuck around to see him leave. But he understood. She hated him, and the best thing he could do would be to leave her alone. 

Beetlejuice acted being pulled into the portal, the way ghosts were. He kept his eyes fixed on the green light in front him, refusing to look at Adam and Barbara, who stood either side of the door.

He didn’t stop until he heard the door close behind him, sealing him away from the Living World. Only then, did he let himself sink to the ground. His eyes were dry when he cried, and his cold hands offered little comfort as he wrapped his arms around himself.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!!
> 
> Follow me @ hellminth.tumblr.com  
> Please come talk about BtlJ with me!


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